


But I Can't Get Too Close To You Darling And God Help Me If I Do

by Flynn_Voltage_Taggart



Series: Love Wins or Something Like That [1]
Category: Doom (Video Games), Half-Life
Genre: Other, canon typical mentions of gore, haha as if I would let Gordon have a kiss for New Year's, they/them pronouns for the Doom Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28465080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flynn_Voltage_Taggart/pseuds/Flynn_Voltage_Taggart
Summary: "But I'm kissaphobicDon't wanna get too close to youYour mouth is a hurricaneYou'll down me in the rainShouting curses at Ursa MinorAs you beckon me to the coversIt's cute when you do itBut Cupid is stupidHe shot the wrong lovers"A short thought about how Doom Slayer always makes sure that Gordon sees their smile when they first wake up turns into Gordon over thinking his big, dumb not-so-secret crush.
Relationships: Doom Marine | Doom Slayer | Doomguy/Gordon Freeman
Series: Love Wins or Something Like That [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200908
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	But I Can't Get Too Close To You Darling And God Help Me If I Do

"Gordon, Gordo, Gordie, Goggs," these were the first words, or really just a string of increasingly bastardized nicknames, the esteemed Doctor Gordon Freeman woke up to.

His initial reaction before his weary eyes opened was a dull twinge of hope. He knew it was a stupid fantasy to cling to, but it was hard in a sleep shrouded haze not to feed into the fantasy that he had passed out in Barney's dorm and had an anxiety induced fever dream after one too many doomsday movies. He'd even take being stuck drifting in the void if it meant wishing away the destruction to humanity that had happened in his absence. Well, except, that wasn't quite true. There were people he met through the will of void walkers that he wouldn't want to erase. That is what typically added an undercurrent of fear to his musings. To think that all the pain and loss he had to witness was all just his own brain trying to keep him sharp was almost too much to think about. It was however a great motivator not to lounge in bed all day pondering what could be.

He opened his eyes.

Above him was one of the reasons that he did not want to completely dismiss his journeys following his....dismissal from Black Mesa. It was a friend he would have never made without the ineffable influence of the void walker in charge of his fate. It was his roommate, the Doom Slayer.

Even without his glasses on, Gordon knew that the Slayer was smiling just as certainly as he knew that the warmth of their hand was resting perfectly on his chest, right over his heart. Part of it was the fact it was routine at this point as he had accidentally made a habit of wandering out to the sofa and just as surely the Slayer had made a habit of waking him gently, or as gently as their firm hands and impatient tendencies would allow. Part of it was this indescribable feeling of warmth and safety that radiated from the presence pulling him, albeit reluctantly, into the waking world.

As his eyes still heavy with sleep began to slowly open, he felt another well-practiced graze of the Slayer's warm hands. They were sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose just so. The hands that he had become used to seeing drenched in a rainbow of alien and demonic blood could be so perfectly delicate. It shouldn't have surprised him. He knew that they had had a rabbit and immaturely kept a very tiny and fragile set of collectibles. Still, the way their fingertips barely traced the bridge of his nose made something deeply buried in his chest flutter. 

The contact was so slight, and yet there was still the dull impulse to lean into it. It would be silly, wouldn't it? The Slayer was helpful by nature, especially with people regrettably weaker and notably more civilian like Gordon himself. He was probably reading too much into. Unless he wasn't. It had been so ritualistic and tender, so purposeful, such a specific bit of unnecessary kindness extended directly and exclusively to him. Maybe it was worth the risk. But then again, if he was wrong, that sting of embarrassment might haunt him for the rest of his seemingly numbered days.

Instead of taking a calculated risk, even if he had been a math whiz since fourth grade, he decided to finally open his eyes.

His suspicions were right. The Slayer was kneeled beside the couch with a hand still draped over his chest from where they had been so ungraciously shaking him awake. They were indeed sporting one of the biggest, goofiest smiles Gordon had seen in a long time. This was another small indulgence saved just for Gordon's company. Usually, the Slayer's smiles meant trouble. They were things made up of too many teeth and matched with gazes filled with unabated bloodlust. Usually, the Slayer's smiles weren't smiles at all but the bared teeth of an unchained predator. The smiles that they shared with Gordon were something much lighter, something as soft as airy as the accompanying laughter for the rare occasions when the weight of the world was temporarily alleviated, the kind that shook his frame and made him firmly grip the Slayer's arms for safe haven. The smiles in a sense were something just for him. That sort of brief selfishness there was in a moment like this both exhilarated and terrified him.

Gordon's glance drifted to take in this rare display of a more docile Doom Slayer. He noted how the way their eyes squinted when they smiled highlighted the crows feet prematurely set in from....work related stress. He noted how their once neatly crewcut jet black hair was starting the grow out in a way that amusingly made them look a bit like a rock star instead of a disciplined hunter with marine training. He noted how a small scar ran fresh across their cheek from a recent battle, how well it blended into the tapestry of neat little cross shaped scars and vicious claw marks that was the Slayer's skin. He noted how close their lips were to his....

Oh god, they were so very, very close....

They were so close that maybe, just maybe he could finally kiss them.

It was something he had mulled over. They were obviously close. Having to depend on each other to not be gutted like a cheap trout by the cascade of enemies that once again threatened the safety of humanity tended to do that. It was more than just pack safety though. The Slayer truly listened to him, even if they did not always quite get it. They were patient with him, even if it seemed to go against all of their primary instincts. They filled the time between missions with laughter and sloppily made breakfasts and games and stories and weapon training they were fervently passionate about. The fact that they had biceps nearly as thick as his waist was only a very slight determining factor.

Maybe today was the day that he finally acted on something instead of mulling over some fictitious ideal plan.

Maybe today was the day that he finally ventured into something far more terrifying than wandering into a ravenous zombie hoard with only a flimsy crowbar as protection: emotional intimacy.

But instead of leaning in and sealing the deal, sealing the 3 inches of space between them with affection that lingering in the back of his throat and right on the tip of his tongue, he smiled. It was barely even a smile. It was something slight and awkward snuck out almost unwillingly between his teeth.

They smiled just a bit wider back before getting up.

The moment of closeness was gone.

He could have done it.

He knew he could have done it.

He could have done it, but the moment had passed.

Once again, his fear of getting too close had spoiled a potential shot for his own happiness. Maybe it was for the best. It was pointless to get attached to someone who could disappear just as quickly as they had shown up practically out of thin air, right? How could he be sure that his life wouldn't be ripped out from under him again? 

He shouldn't worry too much anyways. There was always tomorrow morning to try again. There had been the last twenty times at least.


End file.
